One christmas eve, the children appeared carrying a box.
“Dad,” they squealed, “surprise!”
I peered in and saw two little balls of fluff. One was a black tom with white paws.
“He’s Blackberry,” they explained.
The other was a brown and white female whom they had named Blossom.
The kittens went in the hall along with a smart litter tray. Unfortunately, toilet protocol wasn’t in their genes. Blackberry and Blossom shat everywhere but in the tray. One day they did it in the enamelled Victorian bread bin-on the bread. That was it. I threw the bread bin away and,…
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